September 1 – “A Hero’s Touch”

Wow.  September 1^st.  I guess that makes it officially not summer any more.  Well, it won’t be after this Labor Day weekend is over anyway.  One more weekend to deal with a major onslaught of tourists.  Of course it is raining this morning.  That might just put a damper on some people’s plans.  I hope we have a bit of a window tomorrow morning, though.  We are supposed to have a baptism as part of our worship at church.  Well, the baptism is not at church.  That’s at the beach.  A window of non-rain would be helpful …

Yesterday was Challenge Day on our walking course.  It was time to move up my distance from two and a half to three miles.  At the end of our first mile, however, we were distracted by a sight that was kind of frightening, actually.  One of our elderly neighbors (See how I did that.  We’re certainly NOT the elderly ones around here) was trying to hang a wind chime on her front porch.  The husband uses a walker and can barely get around even with that.  So the wife was going to handle it.  As we glanced in her direction she was stepping up onto one of those little stools with no handle or anything.  Not even near a wall to steady herself.  She had a tiny little hammer in one hand and a big nail in the other.  One attempt to complete the step and we knew we had to stop and render aid before we had to stop and render aid.  It really wasn’t that difficult a job once she found some appropriate tools and I pulled over one of their sturdy metal porch chairs for me to stand on.  I got the hook all screwed in and the wind chime hung so it could allegedly play the first verse of Amazing Grace (Hey, that’s what she was told when she bought it).  She thanked us with a bottle of water each, and we continued our stroll.

Now, why was that particular rescue mission such a big deal to me?  Wouldn’t I have done the same for any of my neighbors?  Well, sure I would have, but as it happens, this particular couple are the parents of my childhood basketball hero.  See, I was never into such superstars like Michael Jordan or LeBron James or whoever the hot name is now.  When I was in elementary and junior high school in small town Galveston, my hero was on the high school basketball team.  His name was Mike Tamalenus, and he could do things I had never dreamed of.  Oh, not dunks or flashy stuff like today.  He could make a shot underhanded.  He played defense like a madman.  My favorite memory of watching him play was the time his coach told him to foul intentionally to stop the clock, a typical basketball strategic move.  But instead of just slapping the nearest offensive player, Mike ran in front of the dribbler, established position in front of him, then oh, so subtly grabbed his jersey and pulled the guy down on top of him.  Hey, why not go for the offensive foul?  You never know what the ref will see.  In that particular case Mike picked up the foul, but I was duly impressed. 

Now the sad thing about Mike is this.  Several years after he graduated he was working at a grain elevator when an explosion him and others.  He was among those killed in the disaster.  I suppose helping Mike’s mom hang a wind chime is my way of saying thank you to Mike for the hero’s touch of inspiration he gave a shrimpy little junior high kid back in the day …

Psalms 96:9 says, “Worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth.”

Father, please watch over Mike’s mom and dad.  And grant them continued peace.  Amen.